


A Man Can Kill But Still Be The Sweetest Thing

by watchthequeenconquer



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Belly Kink, Come Eating, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Morning Sex, Night Terrors, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24418897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchthequeenconquer/pseuds/watchthequeenconquer
Summary: Escaping their minders on a weekend away in Margate, Alfie wakes up to Tommy showing his appreciation for his recent weight gain.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 13
Kudos: 91





	A Man Can Kill But Still Be The Sweetest Thing

**Author's Note:**

> We hear a lot about Tommy's weight, but not about Alfie's (wears it well in all those damn shirts). 
> 
> Porn is fun to write and I wanted some soft Alfie loving.
> 
> Title from misheard Bachelor Girl lyrics, 'Buses and Trains'. 
> 
> Do not own. 
> 
> Enjoy x

Tommy Shelby is enjoying his morning smoke with one knee propped up on the window sill in his under clothes, the weak rays of morning light warming the sun tattooed on his chest.

Breathes in the salty tang of the sea breeze wafting up from the beach in between puffs; taking in the quiet sounds of the coastal wildlife stirring and beginning to go about their hidden lives. 

It’s disgustingly serene by his standards.

The peace is interrupted by the unintelligible muttering from the remaining occupant of the generous bed in the middle of the room.

Tommy, ever the early riser, doesn’t move from his spot, listening with half an ear.

It’s unsurprising that despite the promising stirrings of movement, the sleeper doesn’t fully wake.

“Lazy bones.” Tommy thinks to himself, smiling with the slightest incline of his head.

When Alfie Solomons had suggested they escaped the city for a weekend getaway in Margate at their last meeting in Camden Town, he had scoffed at the mundanity of the prospect.

“You, who refers to Birmingham as the ass end of nowhere. What do you call this, then?”

“Your little empire has been standing for long enough not to topple from its insubstantial foundation if it’s dictatorial overlord should not oversee it for a day or two. Rome wasn’t destroyed in a day, darling. Sacked maybe overnight, yeah, but completely fucking levelled? Nah, come off it.”

Despite the questionable accuracy of his arguments, Alfie had always been far too persuasive with his mouth. As if he needed more convincing, he crowded Tommy up against his distillery wall and gave him a good seeing to. Face warming at the thought, their risky, public exposure gave being held over a barrel an entirely new meaning. 

“Would it help if I held a gun to your head, threatened you into it? Basically par for course in the ways of our wicked world then, ain’t it.” 

Alfie had jammed Tommy’s face into the hard wood as he fucked him, dry and desperate, onto his hand, the knee-buckling suddenness of his climax catching him completely off guard before ruthless, talented fingers were milking his spent prick to a second. 

Even if the Jewish gang leader couldn’t see into the future, maybe he could read minds. If they’d been caught, that’s exactly what Tommy would’ve gone with. 

More tempting than anything was being able to escape their minders. It has been months since they’d fucked in a setting that wasn’t hastily cobbled together under the preface of a business meeting. Being interrupted had become less of a disruption and increasingly a directive to come on command or go without. Since hanging up their military attire and disposing of their respective medals, neither were particularly good at following directives that they themselves hadn’t had a hand in.

So, Margate it was.

Maddeningly tranquil to be sure, but made more entertaining but the fact that Alfie was an entirely different man in a relaxed, domesticated setting. He read voraciously, squinting painfully over the low prescription glasses.

He cooked, yelling at his young, voluptuous maid to get out of the kitchen lest she be impregnated by the mere gaze of the godless heathen who had chosen to haunt their humble establishment and refused to leave without a virginal offering. 

“Fuck her later if the inclination takes you, but pull out when you’re finishing, eh?” Alfie had muttered, between stirring the contents of the pot in front of him, “Last thing we need is more mixed-race children without religion, waiting on errant fathers to impart on them that their pointless existence matters less than the seed wasted on their inception.”

Tommy had snorted in amusement from his spot leaning on the counter, coming up to wrap his arms around Alfie’s thickening waist. He’d put on a couple of pounds during the winter, and it suited him well.

“Never been much for servants, might be my poor upbringing. But the head of the house, that’s an entirely different matter.” Tommy murmurs, closing the distance to suck a bruising kiss into Alfie’s neck.

“Do I look like your wet nurse, that harpy Aunt of yours about to bend you over my knee? You can take your repressed desires for incestuous fornication elsewhere. Pollute the food with all that filthy gypsy slander.” Alfie grunts with a half-hearted nudge, smile concealed beneath the dark swathe of his beard.

“You going to put on an apron to complete this pretty picture, maybe go barefoot? Or am I just going to have to use my deprived imagination?” Tommy ignores him, teasing as he slips his hands underneath Alfie’s rumpled white shirt, wandering up to caress the soft layer of belly hanging over the lip of his pants.

“Fuck off and go make yourself useful,” Alfie barks; almost be a yelp on any less menacing of a specimen of humanity. Shoves Tommy backwards into the nearby table before pulling his gun on him, “Take that, right, and shoot something we can eat, or yourself, if you want to do us all a huge fucking favour.” 

Every life or death encounter Tommy has faced in his short, violent life serves him well when he manages to maintain a straight faced facade before delivering his response.

“Highly dangerous to brandish a weapon near a naked flame. Didn’t they teach you that in Jewish deportment school? You’ll never get a husband like that.”

Alfie roared and Tommy scarpered, but not before lighting his cigarette in close proximity to the cooking just to wind him up more. Returns for the pleasure of watching his lover enjoy the meal of his own crafting heartily over a strong coffee (laced with whiskey, he’s on holiday, alright?), morsels spraying indignantly from his mouth as he chides him for not partaking in any form of nourishment that doesn’t come in liquid form.

Tommy huffs quietly with a shake of his head, smiling to himself at the memory.

His musings are interrupted by a loud sigh from the bed, followed by undistinguishable murmurings.

Ashing his cigarette and abandoning his post, Tommy crawls back under the sheets to investigate.

The bed is invitingly warm, and as usually he doesn’t realise how cold he is until he’s returned from his sabbatical outside its comfy confines. Instinctively fits himself against the broad, bare landscape of the bigger man’s back.

He shivers, a tremor of early morning arousal pleasantly warming in his abdomen when he realises that Alfie isn’t just bare from the waist up, still completely naked after passing out from their exertions the night before.

“Good morning indeed.” He whispers to himself, burying his face into the other man’s neck and inhaling his musky, sleepy scent. 

A sudden jolt interrupts their peaceful rest. Alfie’s dreaming and not the pleasant kind. His shoulders are hunched inwards with the tension, shuddering as he fights against it.

“Ssh now.” Tommy whispers, manoeuvring himself until he’s wound his arms around his chest, “Only mortar here comes with a pestle.”

Always helped him though he was loath to admit it, being held against something tangible, heavy, alive.

He drags Alfie back into his chest even as he attempts to struggle, winds his legs loosely around his waist while giving his limbs the freedom to combat his imaginary foes.

“Easy now, easy.” Tommy soothes gently, rubbing circles into the panes of his chest. It’s as impressively staunch as ever, but his pecs are a little rounder than they used to be. The nubs of his nipples are responsively peaked as Tommy runs his fingers over them, alert in fight or flight.

“Hmm, could’ve just knocked me out mate.” Alfie mutters, gruffly pushing back into him with his behind, getting comfortable, “Bit of a sloppy chokehold, but would’ve done the job if you’d aimed a bit higher.”

“Right you are.” Tommy hums quietly, blowing hot air into the shell of Alfie’s ear.

Admittedly he had become slightly distracted from his originally rather chivalrous intent.

“Up now?”

“Nah. I’ve transcended back into the astral plane to engage in more frivolous pursuits.”

“Mmm.”

Alfie shifts again sleepily, getting comfortable as Tommy wanders lazily downwards, taking all the time that their relaxed circumstances allow.

His hands sweep down the panes of his well concealed ribs to palm at the generous mound of his stomach.

Alfie makes a little displeased sound, shouldering him off a little. Tommy isn’t dissuaded, rubbing at the harder circumference of his upper abdomen, likely still full from a generous helping of dinner the night before.

Given the recent infrequency of their coupling, it had taken him some time to notice the tell-tale signs that Alfie had put on extra weight.

Not that he was a small man to begin with, but as someone who had always struggled to maintain any concept of mass on his slight frame, it was wildly enticing to Tommy; only seeming to added to his power.

“Consider this my personal sacrifice for the good of our continued carnal relations.”  
Alfie had mused the evening prior, not missing the way Tommy’s eyes had lingered over his expanded mid-section, “One of us needs to keep the other warm during the colder months, eh?”

Seeing him untuck his shirt untidily and loosen the tightened notches of his belt during dinner last night had nearly driven Tommy spare; any thought of continuing to play with his meaty soup completely driven from his mind.

“You going to finish that, then?” Alfie asks brazenly. Not waiting for Tommy to answer, he reaches over and drags his bowl and the remaining bread over to himself. Guarding the acquired sustenance with his wiry forearms as though Tommy might make an attempt to reclaim it, he begins ravenously digging in.

“Don’t let me stop you from stuffing yourself.” Tommy manages dryly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he watches Alfie devour his meal. Wishes he was allowed to smoke indoors (rules, what was he, his lawfully wedded wife?) just for something to do with his hands.

Alfie groans around the mouthful in satisfaction. He bloody well knows how he looks, a dishevelled, delicious mess; ridiculously plump lips shining with residue, tongue swiping out to collect the morsels he’s missed. The flecks of food in his beard should be disgusting but only seem to tighten Tommy’s trousers more.

“Mmm...just when I feel like I couldn’t fit anymore inside me, that’s what I could go for right now. Stuffing.”

“Cheeky bastard; bet you only kept that maid on so I wouldn’t fuck you before you’d finished.” Tommy replies, fist clenching distractedly around the knife set beside his plate less than appropriate images flash through his mind.

Alfie had only snickered in response, dragging out every torturous mouthful, mopping up the remnants with the bread.

“You know that’s assault where I come from.” Alfie mumbles presently, dragging Tommy back out of his own head.

“Call the cops.”

“All on your pay roll, aren’t they?”

“Thought you were dreaming.” Tommy huffs out a laugh.

“Still might be, depending on the outcome.”

Leaving one hand lingering possessively on Alfie’s belly, Tommy dives deeper under the covers, spare hand wandering down to trace the crease of thigh before dragging up to cup his ass check.

Of all the areas that had profited most from his recent expansion, this had been as surprising as it was delightful.

“Fucking glorious.” Tommy mutters to himself, lifting up the globular flesh just so he can feel it bounce back against the resistance.

Last night Alfie had been feeling lazy and sated after his meal, so Tommy had ridden him. Despite his best protests, Tommy had shoved away his concealing hands to run and caress his bloated stomach.

Every frantic snap of his hips had made the full thighs beneath him quake as his own did with desperate desire, clamping down so hard when his own orgasm overtook him that Alfie’s followed with a shout shortly after.

All he had been able to think about what Alfie’s ass would look like now as he fucked him, what it would feel like as he rammed his length home into the tight hole cushioned by all that dimpled, doughy padding.

“Settle down back there, nothing to see.” Alfie grunts dismissively and Tommy could swear on his life that he can feel his body heat up a couple of degrees under the intense scrutiny.

“Shut up and roll onto your belly.” Tommy instructs impatiently, hoping the heat in his voice will be mistaken for assertiveness.

“Look at the attitude on it; you’d think I only exist to spread my legs whenever it pleases,” Alfie muses to himself, both affronted and amused, before acquiescing and heaving himself to lie flat on his front.

Tommy ignores his jibes and the sharp intake of breath that follows as he tosses the blankets off to spread his cheeks apart, inspecting him more intimately. Any guise of disinterest immediately dissipates in full view of the dark, trembling hole, shuddering and begging to be filled.

Sighing reverently, Tommy wastes no time in sliding two fingers in, hastily slicked with spit as he awkwardly drags off his own under clothes with his free hand. Nearly bites through his own lip, cursing in Romani, when he feels how easily his fingers are accommodated, sopping wet in the well lathered sheath. His cock bounces upon release, slapping thickly against his belly, dribbling against the friction of the cotton bed sheets. 

Swallowing hard and beginning to scissor the buried appendages gently, he’s rewarded when Alfie makes a contented noise, burying his head further into the pillow and widening his thighs to allow him better access.

Desperately to get his mouth on him, Tommy lowers his face between his cheeks, burying his tongue into the tight entrance while his fingers continue to work.

His blue eyes roll back in his head as he breathes in the savoury dampness, the scent of sleep and darkness and the memory of the previous night’s love making (though he would never admit to using that terminology under pain of death) mingling on his lips. He enjoys it only for a second before beginning to tunnel, lapping hungrily.

“Fucking filthy Tommy, haven’t even washed last night off the sheets.” Alfie pants, words muffled as his forearms wrap the pillow around his face, choking off the animalistic sounds of pleasure tearing from his throat.

Tommy doesn’t need to reply, doesn’t need to hear to know it feels as good as it tastes. His Tense thighs are trembling around his submerged head, sizeable flanks seizing in the throes of his enjoyment. He can practically feel his core spasming with each jab, imagines his belly indenting the mattress as he squirms.

He pulls off for air, admiring his own debauched handy work as Alfie shudders, untouched, his ravaged hole clenching wildly. Spits into it, just to see the muscles in Alfie’s back roll as the white glob dribbles down his crack, hips twisting into the bedding. 

“Go ahead.”

“‘Scuse you?” Alfie’s head whips up and over the curve of his shoulder, brow creased, fists clenched. Tommy feels something like affection bloom in his chest, dangerously close to where his broken heart should be. It’s maddeningly endearing, a cross between indignance at being awake so early (the sheer inconvenience of it, the hide) and sheer frustration at being dragged from the haze of a good, easy fuck.

Tommy licks his glistening lips as he pushes up on his elbows, unable to conceal a smirk as he stares at Alfie, unblinking.

“Stop holding back and ride my fucking face, or are you going to make me do all the bloody work two fucks in a row, eh?”

“Trying not to be a pig about it, wasn’t I?” Alfie retorts, face heating up in embarrassment even as his hips continue to bury themselves into the mattress.

“Watch the nose, then.”

“You know the black rim around the eyes only makes the blue stand out more, mate.”

Tommy resumes his task, attending to it with increased enthusiasm. Instead of letting his fingers do the heavy lifting, his tongue picks up the slack, beginning to move in earnest.

It’s not so different to eating out a cunt, but the restricted confines only make the challenge more enticing. Arthur had always said he’d thrived on getting himself into tight spots only to manoeuvre out of them.

Builds up into a rhythm around his stationary fingers, sort of an out of step dance. He could lose himself in it, even as sweat drips into his eyes and the heat and scent of arousal intensify, threatening to smother him.

Beginning to thrust his fingers shy of their final, cumulative destination, Tommy endeavours to inspire more involvement from his partner, still attempting to remain stubbornly still despite the stutter of his hips. He pulls back to nip at the rim of sensitive skin, pulling it back with his teeth so he can really feel the stretch before it snaps into place.

Barely has the chance to catch his breath when he feels Alfie’s will power crumble as he bucks shakily back into him, reburies himself face first into the hot tight column.

Knows he’s getting the job done right without even seeing. The garbled shouts, wheezes and curses coming from above him punctuate the concave of his back downwards, the unmistakable shuddering in his legs threatening to collapse inward with the weight of his impending climax.

Unable to wait any longer, Tommy pulls off, ignoring the pathetic whine that comes from the man trapped below him which he will certainly deny when pressed later.

Tommy staggers to his knees, bracing himself before dragging Alfie’s ass up with him, allowing him to continue to hide his face in the pillow.

Buries himself to the hilt without preamble; the only sound passing his lips is the breath punching out of him as the tight ring of muscle offers no resistance, the hot, wet pull of suction as he sinks in. His insides shape mould around him, so well fitted he can feel the pulse of the thick vein on the underside of his cock stretching the delicate walls, impregnating them with his girth.

“Fucking perfect, Alfie.” Tommy gasps out, digging his nails into the flesh of his hips. It doesn’t help his best attempts to remain still, let Alfie accommodate to the sensation. The bunching of the gentle rolls of fat stored there only drive him closer to spending on the spot. Tries and fails not to think of the mouth-wateringly exposed curve of Alfie’s belly, exposed and heaving between his parted knees, beading with sweat. 

“Prefer divine, but you’re only a godless mortal, so that will do.” Alfie mutters, the minute shift of his hips signalling his discomfort, need clear in his tone.

“Gets a bit thick and any shred of humility goes out the window. I see how it is. Might have to bring you down a peg.”

Tommy smacks his ass, enjoying the sight as he jumps beneath his hands in surprise, clamping down around his cock as the substantial flesh jiggles. The reddening hand print only drives his lust, using his other hand to make the opposite cheek wobble beneath it enticingly.

His hips begin moving of their own accord, held in obedient reserve for too long; the sight of Alfie supporting himself on his elbows, ripe behind presented too tantalisingly before him not to be taken advantage of. 

The obscene smack of his thighs against Alfie’s exposed ass is too good for it to endure, but he doesn’t want the sensation to end.

He draws it out with measured stroke, dragging all the way out until the fat head is resting on the quiver lip before slamming back in emphatically. Deliberately misses the mark, if only to torture the man beneath him, listen to him pleading and bitch under his breath a while longer.

“Shit.” He groans quietly, abdomen quivering, thighs shaking with each controlled movement.

“That’s what I love about you, your verboseness. That’s exactly what it feels like,” Alfie grumbles, but his breathing is laboured, the words squeezing their way out as his body tenses, winds in on itself, a coil ready to spring.

“That bad, eh?” Tommy replies, burying himself a millimetre shy of the spot inside Alfie that will make him go off like a rocket. The acknowledgement is a growl of annoyance and he responds by setting his position and grinding his hips, making sure to shift ever so slightly and graze against it erratically, “Should I stop?”

“How about you speed it up. My back can’t take much more of this,” Alfie complains, burying his head back in the pillow with a frustrated whine as Tommy continues to thrust tirelessly, as close as he’ll come to pleading for his release. 

“Think of the poor maid. She’ll be in to do the sheets shortly.”

Tommy cocks an eyebrow and as if on conjured, an insistent rap on the door announces just that before it begins creaking open hesitantly despite the noisy squeaking of the old bed frame announcing the activeness of its inhabitants. 

“Are you decent, Mr. Solomons?”

“Be a dear and fuck off!” Alfie lifts his head to yells angrily as though his booming voice may not project far enough for her compromised hearing. Despite his cool interjection, the back of his neck heating up betrays his self-consciousness.

As the doors slams hastily shut, Tommy, absolute savage that he is, can only picture the image they would make were she to enter, his pale, bare ass pounding into her master’s.

Unable to help himself, he pulls out and tackles a surprised Alfie down onto the bed, both landing heavily on their sides.

Winding his arm around Alfie’s waist, Tommy messily spread his cheeks with one hand and slides back in, slotting himself securely against the other man’s back.

The position had become a favourite of his, especially after a big meal when Alfie is still heavy from the food and Tommy was desperate to get his end away, get his hands on him while he’s still pliant and overfed.

“Oh, fuck me, yes!” Alfie moans, throwing his head back into Tommy’s shoulder as he shouts his approval at the new angle, grinding his ass back wantonly into the other man’s as he begins to move his hips in sharp, deep circles. 

It only takes a second before Alfie is cursing wildly in Hebrew when Tommy starts slamming into his prostate.

Tracing his hand over the delectable curve of his hip, Tommy splays his hand over Alfie’s belly where the ronde circumference of his lower abdomen meets his straining pelvis. Jams his eyes shut as his stokes become more erratic, finger caressing the indent where his pants have begun to bite into the soft flesh during the previous day’s travel.

Just when he thinks it’s all too much and not enough all at once, Alfie arches his stomach into Tommy’s hand before slamming his hips backward, impaling himself on his buried cock.

Tommy’s already coming, vision whiting out with the sheer force of it, but manages to drop his hand to Alfie’s untended member, giving it a few rough strokes and biting into his shoulder as the man in front of his shouts out his own release.

He pulls out as Alfie winces, doesn’t even wait for him to come down, oversensitive and twitching as he makes his way down his back, messily sucking at every inch of skin his lips and teeth can claim purchase on as he goes.

“Cease and desist, you spawn of the devil himself...fucking hell!” Alfie doesn’t get to finish his sentence, crying out as Tommy loses himself again in the familiar territory between his soaked thighs.

The cum has barely even finished dripping out of him when Tommy begins lapping at his gaping entrance. He’s thorough with the task, gently coaxing his spend and lapping up his mess with slow, considerate strokes. 

Alfie is shaking violently by the time he’s finished tending to his thighs, not a drop spared.

“What in the name of all that is holy inspired that?” Alfie asks, unable to hide how awe stuck he is as he glances over his shoulder when Tommy drags himself back up his length.

Answers by capturing his mouth, sharing the bittersweet taste of sweat and semen between their ravenous tongues.

“If you’re going to wake up in a cold sweat, it should be followed by the more enjoyable kind”. Tommy mutters between kisses, slipping his tongue into Alfie’s mouth and exploring languidly. The gesture is strikingly intimate, like they’ve been doing this consistently for years rather than in stolen moments for just months. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate.” Alfie plays dumb on principle, giving a low, non-committal rumble, not wanting to admit to the night terrors that had wracked him prior to waking or the intensity of the feelings rumbling about inside his chest. 

“What were you dreaming about then?”

“My maid dropping my no doubt delicious breakfast, tainting her good Jewish virtue when she walked in on you defiling me with that insatiable prick of yours!”

Tommy chuckles and it’s low and bright and everything that a morning should be as he drags a blanket up to cover Alfie who yawns, sleepy and sated.

He gets up and drags on his pants, slinging his suspenders over his bare shoulders. With his shock of jet-black hair, piercing blue eyes and easy grin, he’s everything Alfie’s ever dreamed of not having.

“I better go see she hasn’t resigned. You hungry?” Tommy asks.

Alfie eyes him unabashedly as he walks to the doorway before returning, one bicep pillowing his head while the other rests comfortably on his belly. Would be worth never having another morsel paste his lips for being blessed with just a taste of that man, he thinks vaguely. 

“Always.”


End file.
